The Doctor ordered the men to place the prisoners in place and clapped his hands vigorously. "Excellent! Gentlemen! Next, I am honored to invite you to witness with me - a power that is powerful enough to surpass the evil god!"
"Doctor..." A brown-haired man next to him raised his hand hesitantly.
"What?" The view turned around, "If you have to fart, do it now."
"It's the ancient gods... Doctor, Ms. Harry said that we should remain in awe of those mysterious great beings..."
"I don't care if he's an ancient god or an evil god." The doctor interrupted him directly, "I can call him whatever I want - if you have the guts, go find someone else and see if there are other people who have mastered prehistoric technology and dare to cooperate with you."
"Anyone have any other opinions?" He swept his eyes across the crowd. "If anyone has any opinions, please speak up. I don't mind talking to them about the reasons."
As if his encouragement had worked, a young man at the very edge of the crowd raised his hand tremblingly.
"Doctor, I still feel that..."
Then Hitzfeld saw himself raise his hand and shoot out a beam of black flame that covered him.
The man didn't even have time to scream before he was frozen into an ice sculpture and then shattered, turning into a cloud of crystal ash.
"Remember to clean it up later."
The perspective turned around directly, as if he didn't want to bother with these trivial matters.
"Bring a living person up first, hurry up, hurry up!"
He ordered those evil followers to act as porters and carry a living person up.
Hitzfeld looked at the man's face carefully and found that he was dressed very dirty and ragged, with his hair and beard matted together, looking like he hadn't washed it for years.
It is not known whether it was caused by long-term imprisonment or if he was originally a beggar nearby.
She saw the Doctor - directing the men to lift him up and press him into the Centaur's chest and abdomen like an embedded part.
It was at this moment that she noticed that the chest of the robot horse was actually hollow, with enough space for a person to fit in, just enough for the prisoner's torso to be wrapped by the machine.
"power ups!"
Following the doctor's order, the evildoer next to him turned on the power switch.
Everything!
The lights in the warehouse suddenly lit up, and two cold lights appeared under the helmet of the robot horse in the center. The huge front hooves suddenly stood up, and it swung its lance to the side.
"boom!!!"
This blow directly overturned a truck, and the two evildoers were unable to dodge and were crushed underneath, most likely losing their lives.
"Pull the switch! Pull the switch!"
Seeing bright sparks bursting out from the Centaur's chest and abdomen, the doctor ran over in panic to turn off the power.
"boom!"
The warehouse became dark again.
The robot horse remained frozen in a mad posture, but Hitzfeld could clearly see that the human body embedded in the chest and abdomen was already a bloody mess.
A terrible mutation happened to them. She didn't know if it was an illusion, but the horrible corpse she saw now seemed to be merging with the machine.
"Failed……"
The Doctor sounded very disappointed.
"Then keep trying."
"There are still a few days until the Goliaths arrive. It's not like we don't have time."
What happened next was so intense that Hitzfeld couldn't bear to watch it carefully.
The wreckage was torn out, and the prisoners were embedded into the Centaurs one by one. Some of them could hold on for a little longer, making the Centaurs more powerful when they went crazy, but more of them woke up after being stimulated by the electricity, howling in pain and fear.
"boom!"
This is the sound of the chest exploding.
"boom!"
This is the loud noise caused by the head exploding.
The prisoners were consumed like fireworks, but the doctor remained unmoved and insisted on continuing the experiment.
It was not until the eighth person that the cable burned and he was forced to stop. He waved his hand and asked the evil followers to carry the remaining prisoners back.
“…” Hitzfeld felt his consciousness trembling.
These lunatics...villains!!!
This is undoubtedly Kuroki City... How dare they conduct such a crazy experiment under the nose of the Sara Kingdom?
"It doesn't matter if I fail."
She heard the Doctor mumbling to himself again.
"How can we completely control the power if we don't do this?"
"Power that cannot be fully mastered is meaningless."
"Compared to the evil gods, you are easier to control and grasp..."
He raised his head and passed the mechanical horse.
Hitzfeld was sure she caught a glimpse of something in her peripheral vision—on the shield of the centaur—a fleeting reflection in the black metal.
The face beneath the cape is staggered with gears.
It looks like a machine.
Chapter 32 Hitzfeld's Dream
There was endless darkness, and Hitzfeld was floating in it like a ghost.
Her consciousness was not very clear, a bit like the state of an ordinary person when they have a high fever. She was not even sure whether all this was an illusion caused by the high fever.
A little fire lit up in the darkness, followed by a "hiss" sound, as if someone had lit a match.
The warm orange light opened up space in the darkness, and vaguely, Hitzfeld saw an arched back, trembling slightly with the flickering firelight.
Who is he?
She felt a little confused.
Shouldn't I... I used developer on the robot horse, and its human component was indeed not completely dead, so I was able to get a glimpse of its maker, the guy called "Doctor" by the evil followers.
But then what?
I can't remember what happened next...
As my thinking deepened, my consciousness gradually returned, the dizzy and swollen feeling faded from my brain, and the scene in front of me became clearer.
As the camera and perspective switched to the man's profile, Hitzfeld was 100% sure that he was dreaming.
Whether it is the recollection of the divine eye or watching other people's dreams, it is impossible for the consciousness to appear groggy. This kind of picture jump without warning appears many times and basically only happens in dreams.
This is such a new experience, she thought to herself.
Because ever since she woke up in this world and realized that it was difficult for her to fall asleep, she almost never had any dreams.
The few times I dream, they are either nightmares caused by evil spirits, or they are intermittent - strange shadows seen during the limited sleep I get 1-2 times a week.
She couldn't see it every time she caught up on some sleep, but without exception, she could hardly remember what she saw after waking up.
So this is my first lucid dream?
After some thought, Hitzfeld was sure that he was in good shape.
She decided to ignore the question of why she fell asleep again for no apparent reason and to see what this dream and this hazy figure were doing.
After concentrating her mind, she still couldn't see the man's face clearly. She only felt that the profile sometimes looked like Ethan and sometimes like Darent.
Sometimes, he even looks like Sheriff Rand.
She could only tell from his body shape that he was no longer young. His shoulders were shrinking inward, and he couldn't straighten his back whether he was sitting or standing just now.
If he hadn't had any physical defects, he would have been around 50 years old or above.
He seemed to be writing a letter.
The letter paper was spread out under the warm candlelight, and the man was writing quickly with a pen. He would occasionally pause to be in a daze for a while, then put down the pen temporarily and run to the darkness next to him to get back a tattered book.
The pages of the book turned quickly in his hands, and he was undoubtedly very purposeful because he could always find the items he needed quickly - then he would speed up his writing, writing down the words he had found and thought of on the letter paper in one breath.
Hitzfeld wanted to get closer to see what he was writing, and happened to see him writing: [Dear Felham, I think what you did last Friday was unjust and immoral.]
[You may be wondering who I am and why someone like me knows your decision and the dirty things you did in secret, but I want to say that none of this is important. What is important is your response - if you do not announce the withdrawal of the resolution before midnight tomorrow, I will personally visit Farrell Palace and talk to you about this matter in person.]
This is a threat.
Hitzfeld quickly recovered.
Apparently this was a threatening letter, in which the man tried to threaten a man called "Felham" to retract "an unjust and immoral decision made last Friday."
Otherwise he will cause trouble for others at 12 o'clock tomorrow night. He is really arrogant, isn't he?
To be honest, the letter looked intimidating, but as an eyewitness who witnessed the entire process of how it was created, Hitzfeld was skeptical about its effectiveness.
Let’s ignore who Fereham and this man are, and ignore what Fereham did that led to the need for this letter, and just talk about how it was written.
...Hitzfeld still remembered the book the man was flipping through just now. It was a book called "Deciphering the Nobility - 1000 Most Respected Ancient Clans".
In other words, the reason why he was able to spell the letters of "Fareham" correctly and explain clearly that he was going to "Farrell House" instead of "Farrell Palace" which he wrote down at first and then quickly blacked out was because he looked up the information.
This guy couldn't even spell the other person's name correctly until he decided to threaten him. He didn't know where the other person lived or the exact address of the place... If you think about it, you can understand. Can you take the threats of such a person seriously?
I'm afraid he's not here to make fun of me.
But men themselves don't think so.
After writing the letter, he first reviewed it himself, then blacked out some words again to make changes, and only nodded with satisfaction after reviewing it for the second time, then took out another piece of letter paper and began to copy it.
After the transcription work was completely completed, he picked up the kraft paper envelope next to him and folded the letter in half.
Then he rubbed his hands, opened the drawer, and took out a thin and shiny silver needle.
He measured the needle against the letter paper, folded the letter paper in half so that the gap in the middle was just long enough to hide the needle. Then he happily put them all into the envelope, took a candle to make a wax seal, and finally took out a seal to squeeze the wax clay, leaving a mark similar to an "l" on it.
How could one write a threatening letter and then seal it with a seal?
Hitzfeld was so amused that he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
She felt that this behavior was as outrageous as a kidnapper introducing himself and greeting the hostage's family before making a ransom call. It was something only a psychopath could do.
But you can tell from this series of actions that he is 100% committed.
He means it.
He really intended to intimidate Mr. Fareham.
Hitzfeld began to wonder if he was dreaming.
I have never seen this person, experienced, or even heard of anything like it.
What about Fareham, threatening letters, Farrell House... I have never seen or heard of these, so how could I have such a dream for no reason?
It doesn’t look like a nightmare, either.
It was completely different from the warning dream I had before searching for the Death Tree.
She tried to wake up.
After a dizzy feeling as if she was stepping on empty air, she opened her eyes on the bed.
The ceiling that came into view looked quite familiar, and she immediately realized that this was Room 503 of the Yunyou Hotel.
I lay on the bed, covered with a thick quilt. The kettle made a soft sound on the stove, and occasionally I could hear the sobs of winter mixed in with the wind, clanging against the glass.
With a slight frown, the first thing Hitzfeld did after waking up was to pull out his arms and half-sit up.
But she failed halfway through - a tearing pain came from her brain, forcing her to fall back onto the pillow with a groan.
This noise was enough to alarm the night watchman sitting opposite. She saw a shadow approaching quickly, and then Baliu's voice rang out: "You're awake!"
"…Shouldn't I be awake now?"
Although Hitzfeld had a splitting headache, her speech was not affected. She opened her mouth to retort and heard that her voice was very hoarse.
It might be an exaggeration to say that we were trapped in the desert for half a month, but it was at least a week.
